


Forgotten

by LisaEPotter



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Twin sister, forgotten twin, potter girl, the other potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaEPotter/pseuds/LisaEPotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust yourself, they say. But when you've been a prisoner your whole life, you lose your own trust. </p>
<p>Adoptive daughter of the Tuleys, Mary discovers the identity of her biological parents. Enter a world hidden in plain sight where Mary was forgotten like she never existed. Mary struggles to cope with the world which she belongs to and is tied between two names. Far worse, she is the most dangerous one of her kind, worse than even her parents' murderer. Mary has to learn to trust herself and understand the power of family and friendship to overcome the fear that threatens her very existence, but if no one acknowledges her existence then how can she seek help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 31st October 1981

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first book in the Twin Core Series.

**_Godric's Hollow, England._ **

Amidst the two deaths in the house, an oblivious toddler slept on the newly installed love seat in her parents' bedroom. She loved the comfort it provided and chanced to recline on it whenever she possible. That day, she had sneaked up the stairs unnoticed on her toy broom when her parents and her twin brother were busy getting into the Halloween spirits.

The broom did not actually possess the power to do anything other than hovering a metre above the ground, but somehow Mary had willed it to move forward and up. It was not the first time she had induced in inanimate objects a sense of power beyond its capabilities, nor was she the first in the family for that matter. Both her parents were able to perform magic as well, and they did so, on a daily basis.

Mary was awakened by a rumbling voice calling for her. Struck by panic, she hastily slipped off the seat and ducked behind it. She dared not breathe, lest she was given up by a sharp rasp. Although she was not yet ripe of intelligence in her age, she had a coherent understanding of the things she was not supposed to do. It was almost as if it was an inborn peripheral instinct that she switched to whenever danger lurked in the corner.

Heavy footsteps creaked on the wooden boards outside the room. They paused. The door flew open rather aggressively; then, it slammed shut just as quickly, echoing loudly in the frozen air and slicing through the sleet of silence. The footsteps - now accompanied by a violent wheezing and sniffing - trailed off as they thudded down the stairs.

When she deemed it safe, Mary crept out of her hiding place. She crawled to the front of the room, which somehow seemed unfamiliar – in the same way as the whole world now did. Something was horribly wrong. She could tell that much. Her heart was drumming in her ears, and the corners of her eyes were damp.

A hole had been blasted into the floor next to her mother, who lay face down and unmoving. All was still and quiet. Lily Potter was paler than ever; her cheeks and hair had lost their colour in spite of retaining its lush red. Her emerald green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, reduced to the stone which they resembled. But there was something more in those eyes, something that spoke of horror and pain, and of grief and lost hope.

Mary touched Lily's cold hand, expecting those once-warm fingers to close around her own in assurance. She was met with nothing but cold lifelessness. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Running out of the bedroom – whose door allowed her access on its own accord – Mary searched helplessly for her father. It occurred to her that perhaps he was where she had last left him: in the living room, telling Harry his tall tales of goblins and elves and giants and dragons. She enjoyed his stories but had decided to leave Harry alone to it that night. The attention Harry received from their parents was less than what Mary was used to by a small degree, and although this bothered him in no way, Mary was intent on giving him his share of maternal and paternal love.

The stairs flattened to form a long slide just as Mary stepped on the first step. She raced down it, slipping half the way and sliding down the rest. The stairs had never done that for her; it never had to. Her broom served as an escalator. Not once could she remember actually having climbed up or down all those steps. Before Uncle Siri had gifted them the broom, Mary had always depended on her parents for this job. But where were they now? Why did she have to use the stairs, now, after all that time?

The shutter rattled in the living room.

"Daddy!" Mary jumped to her feet. She rushed to the sound of her father opening the window in the living room to let in a whiff of the crisp autumn night, just like he always did.

There was James Potter, so bold and yet – there was that same horror and fear on his face. He sat in an awkward position on a crushed sofa. His neck leaned against the top of the backrest, his face skywards.

"Daddy! Daddy, wake up!" Mary cried impatiently, shaking his limp body. Her little brow creased.

A memory floated to her. She had often watched films with her family on the "magic picture box" as she called it, and whenever people had laid on the ground a man in a white coat pressed his ear on their chest to check for a sound. Copying the movement, she placed her ear on her father's chest, expecting to hear some form of sound. It was silent.

Mary failed to understand; her brain clogged up with each passing second. If there was no sound, then that person was decreed "dead". Her heart thudded ever so rapidly as she stared at her father's sharply-formed yet soft features, trying to make wind of the situation; his glasses had fallen off his nose and sat innocently on the carpeted floor. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Daddy?" she softly said with a quivering voice, hoping her assumption was wrong. Her mum had explained to her that "dead" meant gone forever. Mary had asked how long forever was; Lily had only smiled sadly and pulled her daughter into a hug.

"Mary!" A pair of arms swept her up and hugged her tightly. She pushed back the strong, foreign arms as she struggled to break free; however, there was no way out of the steely cage. So, Mary had to resign to the last defence she had left. Making sure her canines pierced through his skin, she bit the man's arm.

He, crying out in pain, released her at once. Jumping over a broken radio, a blue broomstick snapped in half and a beheaded porcelain doll, she bolted out of the open front door and stepped into the cold night. The neighbourhood was decorated eerily with glowing jack-o'-lanterns and orange fairy lights. Skeletal hands arose from the lawn of a house nearby as a hanged man dropped down from the far reaches of an apple tree. Yet, surprisingly, the street was deserted; not a single costumed child was in sight, eagerly knocking from door to door, hoping to receive a generous amount of treats to load up their baskets with. She was sure they were there earlier. Close by, a siren blared.

"Harry," she sobbed. The only family she had left had disappeared, and the spooky decorations only added to her fright.

Mary ran barefooted on the streets as though searching for her brother and running away from the scary creatures at every turn.

Catching the scent of lilies, she stopped short in front of a brick-wall -fenced house a few streets away from Godric's Hollow. The neighbourhood was called Nightlight Atrium, a rusty signpost revealed, and it was home to middle-class teachers and the elderly, but, of course, Mary knew none of that.

In hopes that her mother was somewhere in that house, she earnestly entered the garden of the house. It was colourful even in the dark night although it was not garlanded for the special occasion and gave off such warming fragrance that Mary momentarily forgot her pains. She stood in front of a patch of lilies and recalled that her mother used to give her that very flower every morning from her very own garden patch.

Weary from running, Mary threw herself on a flower bed and shortly after fell asleep. It was quite cold, but soon the first few rays of the sun peeked out of the horizon just as the door to the house opened.

Mrs Tuley, still in her nightgown, came out with a watering can. Not having any children of her own, the young woman treated her flowers and plants as her children. As she was about to water the flower beds, she caught sight of Mary curled up among the impatiens.

She gave out a start of surprise, dropping the can. It fell on the shimmering, green grass with a dull, low clang.

"Oh my...What is this child doing here?" she cried out loud. She picked up little Mary in her arms, very carefully as though Mary were made of glass.

Taking her into the house, Mrs Tuley told her husband about her early morning discovery. Mr Tuley, a contemplative Logician who was known for assessing situations properly before rushing to rash decisions, looked at the child sleeping comfortably in Mrs Tuley's arms with concern.

"What should we do?" he asked uncertainly, more to himself than to his wife. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he pondered about it.

Mrs Tuley stroked Mary's cheek tenderly. "I want to keep her," she whispered, not wanting to wake the little girl.

Mr Tuley had been dreading that she would say that. "Sophia," he said kindly,"We can't keep her just, yet. What if she is lost and her parents are looking for her? We need to call the authorities."

"But -," Mrs Tuley tried to protest.

"We don't have any choice, Sophie," he said solemnly.

Mrs Tuley looked at the girl cradled in her arms. She was so close to having a child of her own, but she could not bear to think of hurting the girl's true parents for the sake of her freshly-awakened motherly spirits. No, keeping the child without an investigation would not be what a good mother would do. Sadly, she resigned it and allowed Mr Tuley to call the authorities.

The child would probably have to go, but there was still a chance that she was an orphan. If she were indeed an orphan, Mrs Tuley decided she would adopt her. Secretly, she wished the girl were so. She did not realise how right she was.


	2. Ghosts

Mrs Tuley tucked little Mary in the warm blue blanket in the crib adorned with artificial flowers and vines woven around the wooden railings and grilles. The crib had been purchased when Mrs Tuley had supposedly been expecting a child; however, after the truth finally came out, it had been stashed away in the cupboard under the stairs, dust clinging to it as the years wore on.

It had been brought to the living room with Mrs Tuley's consent, who generally teared up at the sight of the object that had once held such promises for a glorious future. Though, this time, she shed not a single tear. With joy sparkling in her kind, blue eyes, she had dusted and cleaned the crib until it shone.

A soft mattress of a very thick folded quilt she had sewn herself had been thrown over in the wooden inside of the cot. A small, baby blue oval pillow, on which puffs of cottony clouds had been stitched by a steady hand, had been placed on top of the quilt. Only after all, this was done, Mary had been gingerly lowered inside. During the cleaning, she had dozed on the sofa, curled up like a kitten, hugging a fluffy cushion.

Even though her husband retreated to bed, Mrs Tuley hadn't had the heart to do the same. Normally, after she watered her plants at sunrise, she would return to bed for a few more hours before starting the day, but now she sat in the living room looking at Mary warmly until she nodded off.

A few hours later, Mary's emerald green eyes fluttered open. She sat up and examined her surroundings. Everything was so unfamiliar. The dim room, lighted only by the rays of sunshine streaming through the heavy curtains, seemed as huge as a desert. The floorboards were granite tiles, the walls covered with light green paper. There were three doors on three different walls - the front door, the kitchen door and the door leading to the stairwell. A different house plant sat on a tall, three-legged metal stool next to each door.

The room was littered with furniture. A long, three-seater sofa, on which reclined an alien, and two armchairs all sat on the carpeted floor like a group of gossiping schoolgirls around a glass tea table. The fireplace lacked logs of wood and the mantelpiece was garnished by cold awards and achievements. Where had she ended up?

"Mum?" she squeaked, fear building up inside her, clasping her hands tightly.

Mrs Tuley, a light sleeper, abruptly woke up to the sound. Her eyes fell on the frightened girl, and she hastily jumped to her feet and moved towards the cot to comfort her.

"It's alright, dear," she soothed in a voice as sweet as honey, as warm as a blazing fire on a cold winter's night, as soft as one's bed after a tiring day.

Mary blinked at her in surprise, then frowned.

"Where Mum?" she asked. Her head hurt, hammered by an entire flock of non-existent birds, and flashes of terrifying memories flew in front of her eyes; the flashes included a lot of green light and the withdrawal of the green light in her mother's eyes, leaving them dead emeralds.

_Her parents' corpses, her missing brother._

"Your mother? I don't know, child. Where did you come from?" asked Mrs Tuley gently as to not overwhelm the child. She did not really expect an answer.

Mary's face screwed up as she tried to remember. She had often heard her mother talking about the place she lived in. It was something to do with 'Hollow'.

"Hollow?" whispered Mary uncertainly, peering at the woman before her curiously.

"Hollow," Mrs Tuley repeated. "But you are still in Godric's Hollow, dear. Wait here, I shall go get you something to eat."

Mary shook her dark, messy mane of hair. "Not hungwy."

But Mrs Tuley would hear none of it. "You should eat something. I'll get you some bread dipped in boiled milk," she said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Tears rolled down Mary's rosy cheeks. She regretted running away from home, but there had been an invader, her offender. She hadn't recognised him at the time. Yet, now, as she tried to recall the incident, her brain compressed in pain as though trying to screw itself in a tiny phial. Pressing her hands to her temples, Mary shrieked.

The railings of the crib parted to one side to make enough room for her to slip out. Her pastel pink frock was a crumpled mess; mud clung to her bare feet. She looked in no way like the well-cared-for child of the Potters.

She walked to the front door and tried to reach out to open it, but the door knob was too high for her small height. If only she had a broom...She noticed the cat flap, which was unusually large - large enough for her to escape through.

On the porch of the Tuleys' house, Mary's eyes swept through the garden, searching for something familiar. The lilies in the garden caught her attention and she ran to them.

Every morning, her mother had presented her with a lily, which was normally clipped to her hair. Mary would run about the house, showing off the lilies to everyone else. Lilies held a very significant spot in Mary's life. Her love for them was inexplicable. Then again, love is inexplicable.

She threw herself on the flowerbed and cried her heart out. She wanted her mummy, but her mummy was "gone forever" with her daddy. But why did they have to leave her alone? She felt so lost, muddled up in the aftermath of their deaths.....and her brother? Where was he? He couldn't be gone forever too....

"Mary, don't cry, dear," her mother's voice comforted.

Immediately, Mary stopped crying and looked up, expecting to see her mum. She wasn't disappointed. A silvery pale, translucent figure stood before her: Lily Potter. The form stood right in front of the little girl, who raised her head inquiringly.

"Mummy!" exclaimed Mary with joy as she jumped up and hugged Lily, who scooped her up in her arms. The young girl breathed in the sweet smell of her mother, the scent of lilies, and a wave of security washed over her. "Daddy!"

James Potter, beaming, stood just behind his wife. "Be brave, my little lioness," he said, ruffling up his daughter's hair.

"Where Harry?" Mary asked anxiously. She tried to see past Lily's shoulder to see if her brother stood there, but he seemed to be nowhere in sight.

"He's a long way off, Mary," explained Lily slowly. "He's safe. I want you to stay with the good people of this house until it's time, OK?"

"O-cake." Mary nodded, rubbing her wet eyes.

Lily and James chuckled. "We'll always be with you, even if you can't see us," said James firmly. His silver eyes were sincere and honest. Mary wondered why they weren't hazel-brown anymore.

He took her from Lily's arms and placed her on top of the bed of lilies. Then, both he and his wife faded.

"MUMMY! DADDY!" shouted Mary, but there was no answer. She was met by nothing but the chirping of birds as they tweeted to each other about the events of the previous night and the sorrowful woes of the little girl sitting amongst the fresh lilies. Some hopped onto the stone wall and peered at her curiously, singing songs of pain and loss; fear and dread.

The front door of the Tuleys' house flew open. Mrs Tuley ran to Mary and took her inside while wondering how she got out of the crib. The toddler sobbed uncontrollably as her breakfast was placed in front of her and Mrs Tuley fed her and endeavoured to coax her.


	3. A Surprise

On a cold July night, when everyone in Nightlight Atrium was in bed, a dark haired adventure-spirited girl sneaked out of her house and flew about the garden on a rather forlorn, rusty broomstick. To her, it was not unusual at all to do this, but it was her adoptive parents she was hiding from. They did not like her doing odd things, at least, things odd to them, and being airborne on a mere piece of wood was one of the most unusual things they had ever experienced or would have experienced if they had known; for knowing their demeanour, the girl hid this uncanny ability of hers. She did not wish for all the brooms in the house to be locked away in the shed: they were her last resort for being herself.

Mary had always been shut out from the rest of the world by the stone wall around the Tuleys' house because she was different. The Tuleys wanted to 'protect her from the outside world who would never accept her'. So, Mary became a prisoner in her house, but this hadn't always been her house. She had remembered snatches of her past life before she stumbled across the Tuleys garden lost. Most of the time these snatches occurred in the night when her mind was at rest or should have been at rest if it weren't for these very snatches. As important as they were, these recollections were rather unpleasant, which made her wonder if her past life had been rough like her nightmares.

Mary knew she was adopted, but it did not matter to her much as long as she had the love of her adoptive parents, which came aplenty. However, that did not mean that she did not want to see her real family. She yearned to know of them, what they had been like, if they had loved her, if they were still searching for her, if they still walked the earth - the questions were endless, but lacked answers. Thus, they were all gathered in a fist and shut away in a locked box at the back of her mind.

As she flew past the lilies, the sudden appearance of a tall figure at the gate made Mary swerve and hit the stone wall forcefully. She lost balance and fell off, walloping the ground. Wincing in pain as she lightly touched a graze on her arm, Mary got up to see the man approaching her. She glanced at the gate, which had been bolted shut meticulously by Mrs Tuley herself both in fear of burglars and a night time wandering on Mary's part. The bolt was tight in place; however, it only drew more questions to the arrival of the strange man.

"Who are you?" she choked out in fear, her voice brimming with a strong Scottish accent. Taking a light stance so that she could move with agility if it were called for by circumstances, she held out the broom in front of her in defence.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," he replied, pronouncing each word thoroughly to let it sink in, as he surveyed her through his half-moon spectacles. The man was oddly dressed in midnight blue robes sprinkled with pale moondust on the hem that glimmered to resemble tiny stars in a night sky and a matching wizard's hat equally star-adorned. His silvery hair was so long that it was neatly tucked in his jet-black belt. "Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, more commonly known as Professor Dumbledore."

"What are you doing here this late?" She didn't dare say that her parents were asleep lest the man try anything funny and kidnap her for a large ransom, which the Tuleys would not be able to afford, and she would die of starvation in the dank cellar full of foul odours and rot.

Professor Dumbledore ignored the question. Instead, he made a simple statement which changed Mary's whole life. She would later wonder if it was indeed a good change or a bad one, but that matter is for later. "You're a witch, Mary."

"I'm a what?" she cried out, all thought about sweets offered as bait forgotten as she marched over red-faced to the intruder.

It was true that she was very different from others - the main reason she was isolated from everyone else - but she possibly couldn't be a witch. It all seemed like a bad joke: she had never practiced black magic to harm anyone. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Tuley wanted the best for her, but she had to admit living like that wasn't exactly healthy. She was an unwanted loner. Her only companions were the beautiful flowers in the garden that were never the best friends you could come by.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm very different, but I don't want to be called a witch," Mary declared haughtily. Suddenly, her vanity evaporated; it occurred to her that the man had addressed her correctly with her name. "How do you know my name?"

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Let me clear things up. Being a witch is not a bad thing as long as you do not stray to the Dark path," he explained. "Your name has been placed on admission at Hogwarts since the moment the first flicker of life rose in you and you entered the world, breathing in the first puff of air your lungs took up by themselves unaided."

The next two hours were spent in an explanation of witches and wizards and their hidden world, that and answering the few hundred questions Mary bombarded Professor Dumbledore with as they were seated on the chairs on the patio. He was patient with her, for he knew it was tough for her to register all the new information.

"So, were my parents wizards?" Mary mumbled, all her fear of the man evaporated. "Do you know them? Are they still alive? Am I really an orphan?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed. He had to give the grave news to the girl. She had the right to know about her past. "I'm not entirely clear on who your parents are, but I have a pretty good assumption. If they are who I think they are, then I am afraid you are indeed an orphan. I am still waiting for confirmation from the Ministry."

Mary licked her dried lips. She must have known this. How often had this thought come to her little head, but she turned it down in hopes it was false. "How did they...?" Her voice trailed off. She could not bring herself to say the dreaded words.

"They were killed by the darkest wizard of all times: Lord Voldemort, he calls himself," he said casually, as though he gave away such information every day. Perhaps he did.

She asked with a light tone of nervousness,"When am I going to Hogwarts?"

"Well, here, read this letter. It's for you." Dumbledore handed Mary a yellowed envelope - which smelled quite like parchment - with a queer purple seal. She opened it carefully and two slips of parchment - she was sure this time - fell out. She opened one to read its contents.

_'Dear Miss Tuley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall.'_

Next she scanned through the list enclosed with the letter with eyes as round as coins. All this felt too good to be true. She was going to be free at last. She was going to be with people like her! She would no longer be a freak. Her happiness and excitement were too much for her to bear sitting. Unable to help it, Mary jumped up and twirled around in ecstasy. She made exclamations of her sheer joy that caused Professor Dumbledore to smile.

At last, when he decided that she had enough expression of her pleasure for the time being, Professor Dumbledore made a statement that she should leave at once for the shopping, and she will be accompanied by two other people, one of whom was very much like her in his ignorance.

Startled by the suggestion to leave at so late an hour and without the consent of her guardians, Mary inquired why she would have to leave at once.

"Do you think they would let you leave if all this was explained to them?" he challenged although it didn't sound much like a reprimand. His tone was always calm.

It was true that they were overprotective, but to let her remain in solitary prison when there was a place where she belonged to seemed pretty far-fetched. Yet, how _would_ they react to this? They would probably disbelief the whole thing coming from the mouth of a stranger. Now, that Mary thought about it, how could she trust this man was speaking the truth? For all she knew, this was all a well-played hoax.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to read that particular train of thought on her face. He took out a wooden stick that he called his wand and muttered something caused a lily as red as her true mother's hair fall on Mary's lap.

Amazed, she tenderly picked it up and smelled it. That flower had brought memories of her wonderful past before the great misfortune had overcome. Now, here was her proof that everything the man had been saying was true. There was a Hogwarts, and it was to be her new home.

"I will go, now," Mary whispered as though speaking out loud would break all hopes that this wasn't a dream, "but will I return?"

"As soon as your shopping is done, by the time of which I would have convinced your parents to let you go," he answered. In truth, he wanted her to bond with her companions for the shopping trip, especially the young boy of the same age as her. "By the way, Mary, happy birthday."

Mary turned her attention away from the flower. "What? Is it my _real_ birthday today? I never knew when it was, but we always celebrate on Halloween, the day I was found here, but for some reason I am never happy that day. I don't feel the joy of my birthday. Perhaps, it was because it _wasn't_ my birthday."

"Perhaps," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "But perhaps because that is the death anniversary of your actual parents."

The blow hit Mary like the sharp wind on a cold January night. Never had she imagined this. She had hardly imagined any of this!

Slowly getting up, Mary sneaked into the house and rescued a small, beaded mailbag, in which reposed a small sum of money she had saved up, she had made herself. She intended to put her shopping articles in there - whatever would fit.

"So, where am I going?" she wondered out loud as she smoothened the ruffled up skirt of her sleeveless dress.

"Diagon Alley."


	4. Siblings Reunion

So, with those two words that referred to a place Mary had never heard of, she was told to take Professor Dumbledore's arm. What happened next dazed her beyond the ability to use her vocal chords for a few minutes. She felt like she was sucked into darkness - an empty void that squeezed her roughly  - and then, within a few seconds, sucked back to a street packed with people. Thankfully, she did not eat much of her dinner because if she had eaten properly, then all the food would have been the products of sickness by the queasy feeling developing in her stomach.

"Most people throw up on their first experience of Side-Along Apparation," Professor Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, I was nearly going to," Mary muttered, clutching her stomach.

The number of people surprised her and she cowered behind Professor Dumbledore's cloak. A sign post identified the street as 'Charing Cross Road'. There was nothing particularly special about it, yet Mary drank in the sight curiously. She had never been in the presence of so many people and undubiously it frightened her now. Butterflies, such that she had never felt, fluttered in her stomach taking all pleasure to explore the depths of it before ennui lead them to her thrumming heart, where they flitted about till the pumping organ was ready to explode. She gripped the cloak tighter and buried her face in it.

Professor Dumbledore, who didn't seem to mind and instead understood her fears, entered a building labelled 'The Leaky Cauldron' with a hand on the little girl's shoulder, for little she was both of height and age. It was a rather odd name and people walked past it as if it didn't exist. Upon entering the dark structure, Mary figured it must be an inn of some sort.

However, she didn't get the leisure to look around it properly for Professor Dumbledore led her towards a door which opened to a private sitting room which was bare save for a pair of cozy armchairs and a round tea table. There he told her to sit and gave instructions to the landlord to send her with some Hagrid to Diagon Alley. Here, he parted with nothing, but a "Good day."

The landlord, Tom, asked Mary if she would like to eat something. Still feeling a bit sick, she declined the offer. He left her alone and Mary sat there for what seemed like hours, examining her nails and the room just to have something to occupy herself. Counting the cracks on the plastered walls and following them with her eyes proved to not credit her much. The clock ticked sluggishly and she could not help thinking she was frozen in time.

The thought gave birth to a cloud of imagination where she was a little princess lost in time, deliberately thrown into the Time Vortex by a rather tall, pale, dark man called Voldemort where she searched for her parents the king and queen till she realised that they had been ruthlessly killed in a massacre along with the rest of the squallions in the castle.  Mary didn't know what a squallion was nor if it actually was a word; she was sure she had made it up, but it sounded so imperial! A squallion was a group of courtiers, servants, advisors, ladies in waiting, knights and everyone else who worked in the castle, she decided. However, throughout the story, there was no sign of a prince, her brother, for she couldn't even remember she had one.

Eventually, she fell asleep but awakened to a shattering noise from outside the room. When she was finally called to the lobby, it was a little after dawn.

She was directed towards a gross crowd and paled at the sight of it. Pushed to the centre of the bike, Mary decided she would certainly faint. However, the sight of a very large, ruddy-faced, hairy man and a bespectacled boy of her age drew away that thought. The man towered over her and she couldn't help terror rising up her neck icily; like a snake it slithered up her spine and coiled itself tightly around her chest, making her rather out of breath and red-faced thereof.

Tom was talking to the man, who she assumed was Hagrid. The identity of the boy wasn't too hard to discover. Everyone, every single occupant of the lobby, was talking about him: Harry Potter. He was famous for a reason which Mary could not identify because so many people were talking at the same time, theirs words becoming a bundle of gibber.

"Dumbledore told me to tell you that you are to take this girl with you to Diagon Alley along with Mr. Potter," Tom was saying.

Mary glanced at the boy Harry and frowned. The name was familiar to her. Perhaps she read it in the newspaper or caught it on TV. No, it couldn't be. This boy was a wizard and wizards didn't come on the Muggle news or TV. Muggle was a new term she had learned that referred to everything non-magic. Yet, Dumbledore had said he too like she was brought up by Muggles.

"Hello," the boy whispered to her awkwardly. He had dark, messy hair and green eyes framed by a pair of round glasses that made Mary gasp. Those were the exact same eyes as hers - minus the spectacles!

"Your eyes," she breathed in. He seemed to have noticed too for he mirrored her expression of shock.

"They're like yours," he gasped.

Then, it struck her. She realised who it was that stood before her. She had realised there was indeed a prince in the story. Unable to control her emotions, she threw her arms around him and cried out,"Oh, my little brother! I haven't seen you for ages!"

Of course, confusion on Harry's part was obvious. He tried to pull away from her, but she held on tight. It was ten years ago that she had to part from her brother, her twin, but now she was determined not to. The memory was faint but it was stuck to the wall of her cranium, intent on remaining there no matter how much time tried to push it off.

Finally, she pulled away and wiped the tears from her wet cheeks. "Don't you remember me?" she asked. "Silly me, how could you? We were so young, then! But now, we're both eleven. Happy birthday, by the way."

Harry's face twisted more and more with confusion. "I have no idea what...Hang on.....M-may?" he said uncertainly.

Mary nodded. "Mary."

His face lit up and he held out his hand, which she shook warmly. However, the moment her hand touched his, a searing pain erupted on Mary's wrist. Pulling it away abruptly, she examined a cut that was bleeding severely. But Mary was prepared for such situations. She pulled out a small box from her bag and handed it to Harry. Realising it was a First Aid kit, he opened it, and after cleaning her wound with an alcohol pad (it stung), patched it up with a strip of plaster. She smiled at him in gratitude as he handed the box back, which she shoved back in her bag.

"Mary Potter, are ye?"Hagrid asked amazed. "I'd searched fer ye when I took Harry to yer aunt's, but I never found ye. Thought them Death Eaters got to you or You-Know-Himself."

"Who?" frowned Harry, still confused. Mary realised that he barely knew anything. Well, she'll just have to inform her of it all, wouldn't she?

Another memory flashed in her mind.

"You freaked me out....so...so I hid," replied Mary slowly. Gradually, she was growing intrepid of Hagrid's presence as she noticed her brother's ease around him. Yet, she decided to remain cautious all the same. "All these flashes of my memory come to me in the form of nightmares, in case you're wondering. Obviously, I don't remember all of my childhood when Mum and Dad were still alive. So, far I just remember three moments: two very precious and one very tragic."

"Three guesses what the tragic one is," Harry said briskly. "That's the only one I remember, unfortunately."

She smiled at him although the smile expressed no happiness. "Well, I was always the one with the better memory!" she joked.

"I don't wanna interfere in yer mo', but we really gotta go," Hagrid reminded.

The twins followed him quietly to the back door, which led to a space enclosed by a red brick wall. Hagrid walked to it and took out an umbrella from his huge coat. He tapped three bricks, which Mary memorised quickly. It was a habit of hers to memorise things very quickly in case she ever needed the information later on.

The bricks of the wall swirled around then divided the wall into two and behold: Diagon Alley! It was packed with witches and wizards in colourful robes. There were a great many shops, but before they could buy anything Hagrid said they would have to get money from the bank. Dumbledore had told Mary that she would have to exchange her Muggle money with the wizarding one at the bank, so there the three went. Turned out, she didn't have to exchange the money after all. She had her own vault where the money her parents had left her were stored safely. The ample amount of gold coins illuminating the vault amazed her. If she was ever kidnapped, she wouldn't have to worry about dying of starvation in a dark cellar.

 "Wand first, please?"Mary begged. The idea of  having a wand intrigued her. The excitement almost melted away her fear of crowds. Almost.

"Alright. Try Ollivander's while I go off to do some important business here. Just go to Madam Malkin's for your robes, next. I'll meet you there," Hagrid said and disappeared amongst the crowd. He pointed out the two stores before doing so.

Ignoring the mass of people as best as she could, Mary trotted to the wand shop with Harry at her tail. The shop bell rang as she pushed open the door. It was a very dusty place packed with boxes containing wands. Behind the counter, on a ladder, stood Mr. Ollivander.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. It seems just like yesterday when your parents came to get their first wands," he said with a warm smile. Turning to Mary, he asked,"And who would you be, miss?"

Unlike her brother, she was not famous at all. In fact, people hardly knew of her existence. With a sad sigh, Mary introduced herself. Mr. Ollivander looked surprised to know there was  _another_  Potter. He procured a measuring tape and carefully measured their heights and arm length among other things.

"Here, " he handed them both a wand each after he was finally satisfied. "Give it a little wave, one at a time, please."

Harry told Mary to go on first. Nervously, she waved the wand. All the boxes on the shelves ahead flew out in a heap on top of the old wandmaker and an earthen basket containing some books shattered to an ear-splitting explosion. Guilty, surprised and scared, Mary quickly placed the wand on the counter in fright.

Mr. Ollivander seemed used to such occurences. He pulled himself up casually then told Harry to go on next. The answer from the wand was negative although it did not cause as much destruction as Mary's did. Harry's second wand was also negative and so was her's. Again, Mary couldn't help noticing how she caused much more damage than her brother did.

"I wonder..."Mr. Ollivander said more to himself than to Mary or Harry. He fished out a brass key from his pocket and unlocked a drawer of the counter. Pulling out a wand box, he handed its content to Harry.

Harry gripped it and stopped. He did not wave it for a warm light escaped the tip of his wand as Harry shut his eyes and was levitated in the air. Then, Mr. Ollivander mysteriously fetched another wand from the same drawer. This time for Mary.

A warm feeling flooded through her as she touched the wand. However, her light did not shine like Harry's: it was, even more, brighter, so bright that Mary had to close her eyes. She found herself firmly planted on the ground unlike Harry, who tumbled to the ground after realising he was hovering in the air. She tried to not feel bad, but it was clear she was the worst witch on the planet.

"Curious, very curious," the old wandmaker murmured.

"Sorry, but what's curious?"Harry asked glancing at Mary, who could only shrug.

"The wand choses the wizard, Mr. Potter, " he replied. "The phoenix that supplied the core of this wand gave two other, which is unusual in itself as each phoenix sheds a single feather for wand-making purposes, one of which now chose Miss Potter and the other...It is curious that this wand chose you when it's brother marked you with that scar."

"You mean Lord Voldemort?"Mary frowned.

Mr. Ollivander flinched. "We do not speak his name!" he snapped angrily.

"Sorry, I didn't know," apologised she, her head bent down in embarrassment.

Since it was getting awkward, the twins quickly paid for their wands and left the shop. As they walked to Madam Malkin's, Mary filled Harry in with the information she got from Dumbledore on Voldemort.

"How did I...?"Harry asked in puzzlement.

"Throw him off power? I don't know, but I bet Professor Dumbledore would. We can ask him when we go to Hogwarts."

After buying their robes, through the process of which they met a blond first year student like them, the twins waited for Hagrid in front of the shop. Mary had actually thought that the blond boy was cute even though his manners were not very much the same as his looks. He was boasting about things that Mary quite didn't understand.

"Where is Hagrid?" Mary asked impatiently. She was just beginning to get used to the crowds just as long as they didn't look at her, but there was still fear in her that they were lost.

As though he heard his name, Hagrid appeared before them from a very thick crowd. He was carrying two cages with a snowy owl in each. They were presents for their birthday! Mary picked out the smaller one because of its unique blue eyes. She named her Maydrop on the spot while Harry decided to pick a name later.

By mid-afternoon, all their shopping was done. In addition to the school books, Mary bought a few extra books for her personal reading. One of them was really thick and was titled  _Hogwarts: 'A History_ '. She looked forward to reading more about her new home.

The three had lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. As they ate Mary asked Hagrid about Hogwarts: what it was like, what subjects there would be and whether the teachers were nice. Hagrid gave her very detailed answers which satisfied her immensely.

"Hagrid, why can't first years have their own broomsticks?"Mary questioned unhappily, placing down her fork. She really wanted to use brooms that were meant to be flown.

"Well, I suppose they still don't  know how to fly on one," Hagrid answered thoughtfully.

"But, I do!" protested she. "So, can I have one?"

"Er...."

"Please, please, please?"Mary pleaded. She was a little spoiled. The Tuleys had given her almost everything she wanted.  _Almost_ everything, not all. If she didn't get what she wanted, she would grumble a few hours, then get over it.

"I dunno, really," he said uncertainly.

"Oh, OK, then," she sighed, but Mary wasn't going to give up that easily. She was going to order it via mail, she decided, as soon as she got back home. The mailing address was imprinted on her mind from when she had read it at the shop front.

She picked up her fork and took a bite of a diced carrot piece.

Hagrid looked relieved that Mary seemed to give up, but Harry caught her mischievous smile.

"What are you going to do?" he whispered to her when Hagrid went to pay the bills.

She smiled. "Tell not a soul, living or dead, OK?"

When he had promised, she revealed her plan. He was awed that she could do something like that. She seemed so innocent! Then again, one should never judge a book by its cover.

 

 


	5. Friends

A month with the Tuleys seemed like a death sentence to Mary after her wonderful day out of doors, but she had no choice. However, they began acting oddly during that month period. It seemed that travelling to museums and fairs had become the number one priority, which was too awkward for Mary.Fun but awkward. They were supposed to be shutting her up in that house of theirs, so why did that change all of a sudden? Mary would never know.

The month passed quickly. Mary had just finished reading all the books she had bought. Most of the facts were etched into her mind and she felt confident to begin her first year at Hogwarts. The two days before 31 August were spent in packing. She stuffed in all her clothes in her trunk, as well as her school books and equipment, and all her personal books. The books that did not fit in her trunk, she stowed them in her beaded bag. To top it off, she placed a framed picture of her adoptive parents at the very top, in the trunk.

So, on 31 August, Mary was ready to set off for Hogwarts. Her train ticket was for Platform 9 3/4, which seemed like a mistake. There was no Platform 9 3/4. After searching King's Cross Station for it, Mary was resigned to admit that. Her happy bubble burst, leaving sadness and disappointment.

The Tuleys had left her at the train station alone. It was another act of the Tuleys' new oddness. Normally, they would be over-protective, but now not so much. What could possibly cause that change? Perhaps some parenting advice from Dumbledore. She giggled at the thought.

"Mary, dear,  take care. You'll write to us, won't you?" Mrs Tuley had asked Mary as she hugged her tight.

"I promise, " Mary had assured her.

"No matter what happens, just know that we'll always love you," Mrs Tuley had then whispered, kissing her adoptive daughter's cheek. It had been barely audible, but Mary managed to catch it.

Sitting with drooped shoulders on the bench between Platforms 9 and 10, Mary spotted a huge family of red-heads coming her way led by a plump woman. Her kids were dressed in Hogwarts uniform! Maybe Mary could ask them where Platform 9 3/4 was!

Mary was so intent upon questioning them that she did not notice her brother following the red-headed family.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where Platform 9 3/4 is?" she asked the woman.

The woman smiled at her warmly. "First year? Well, it's Ron's first year, too," she pointed to her youngest son, who waved at her. "Come along. That's where we're headed as well."

"Mary!"Harry shouted as he recognised her. He hurried to her as the woman looked at him curiously.

"He's my brother," Mary informed.

The woman nodded. "Right. Hurry up, the train leaves at exactly eleven o' clock. Alright, Percy, you first."

Her eldest son ran straight at the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. Mary was sure he would hit the wall hard, but he disappeared through it. She stared at the wall open-jawed.

"Fred, you next,"the woman told one of her twin sons.

"He's not Fred, I am," the other protested.

"Honestly, woman you call yourself our mother," the first one rolled his eyes.

"Oh, George, then," the woman corrected herself, beckoning them to hurry up.

George went to the wall. Before running through it, he turned and said," I'm only joking. I am Fred."

His twin followed bellowing with laughter. Mary chuckled at their little joke.

"So, now Mary, all you have to do is run straight through the wall," the woman instructed. "Don't be afraid. You won't get hit."

Nodding her head, Mary did as instructed. She braced herself for the impact of hitting the wall, but none came. Instead, a coolness washed over her as she was transported to a platform labelled 9 3/4 on which stood a shiny, red train _: "The Hogwarts Express"_ was painted on the front in black letters.

Harry and Ron followed her into the platform. Together, they put their trunks in the luggage carriage, then headed for a passenger carriage on the train. However, Mary's untied shoelace caught her attention and she bent down to tie it. When she got up, the boys had disappeared and the train was whistling.

She ran to the nearest carriage in panic. A boy saw her and held out his hand to help her in as the train was ready to leave. Hastily, Mary grabbed his hand and he pulled her in. She realised he was that cute blond boy from Madam Malkin's.

"Thanks," she said in gratitude.

He shrugged and went off to look for a compartment. Mary did the same. She found Harry and Ron alone in a compartment and joined them.

"Where did you disappear to?"Harry asked her.

"I was tying my shoe laces and you're the ones disappeared," Mary said softly.

"So, you're Mary Potter?" Ron said uncertainly. "You're not very famous, are you?"

Mary shrugged.

"So, what's Hogwarts like? Do you know?" Harry asked eagerly.

Ron replied, "Well, I really don't know, but Percy told me there are a lot of lights. Hey, which house do you want to be in?"

"I don't know. Gryffindor is for the brave ones. Ravenclaw is for the brainy ones; Hufflepuff the loyal ones and Slytherin the ambitious ones," Mary recalled. She smiled proudly to herself that she remembered the names. They had been difficult to memorise.

Ron snorted. "Slytherins are about the evilest wizards ever known. Many Dark wizards are from Slytherin."

"Even Voldemort?" Harry frowned.

Ron winced. "Don't say his name, mate. But yes, You-Know-Who was from Slytherin."

The food trolley pushed by a kind-looking witch stopped in front of their compartment. The trolley contained sweets and cakes Mary had never seen in her life. She and Harry bought some of each, which they shared with Ron.

"These aren't real frogs are they?" Harry questioned as he picked up a box of Chocolate Frog.

Munching on some Pumpkin Pasties, Ron answered," No, it's just an enchantment. Besides, it's the cards you want. I've got a huge collection. Maybe we can exchange some."

Harry's Frog hopped out of the box when he opened it and began jumping around the room. It landed on her head and she screamed, shaking her head frantically in an attempt to get it off.

"Hold still," Ron said, reaching for the Frog. With a swift movement of his arm, he had caught it in a steely grip.

He bit off its head and chewed casually as though he ate Frog heads everyday. He probably did, Mary realised.

'Perhaps it's a wizard thing to eat Frog heads first,' she thought.

She opened a box of Chocolate Frogs and gripped her Frog before it jumped and bit off its head to imitate Ron. Then, she removed the card which was still in the box.

" _Merlin,_ " she read out loud. " _Merlin is the most famous_ _wizard of all time. He is sometimes known as the Prince of Enchanters and was part of the Court of King Arthur_."

"That's one of the few I'm missing,"Ron declared. "Do you want to exchange it for Herpo the Foul? I've got hundreds of him."

They traded cards.

_'Herpo the Foul was an Ancient Greek wizard and the_ _first_ _known creator of the Basilisk._ What's a Basilisk?'

"I've got Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, immediately catching Mary's attention, all thought of basilisks now forgotten. "Hey, he's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang in there all day." Ron shook his head as though Harry was crazy.

Mary explained, "Muggle pictures don't move around at all. They're immobile."

"Must be quite boring, then. You know, Fred gave me a spell to turn Scabbers yellow, want to see?" Ron fished out his wand and cleared his throat.

The twins looked at him expectantly.

Just then, the compartment door slid open. A girl with bushy brown hair stood at the door. She was already in her Hogwarts school robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad?"s he asked in a tired voice. "A boy named Neville lost his." On sight of Ron, however, she suddenly became eager. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see, then. I've tried a few spells myself."

She took a seat by the window beside Mary, who was sitting across Ron, and looked at Ron expectantly.

Ron began reciting his spell beginning slowly then quickening with every word. "Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow."

All four of them waited for something to happen. Nothing other than a start of surprise from Scabbers occurred.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asked. "Well, it's not very good is it? I've tried a few simple spells myself and they've worked for me. For example..."

She pointed her wand at Harry's glasses. " _Occulus Reparo,"_ she chanted.

There was a fire crackling sound and Harry's broken glasses got fixed. He took them off to check them out.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and you are?"

"Harry Potter." 

Hermione gasped.

"Mary Potter."

Hermione nodded slightly in confusion.

"Ron Weasley." Ron's mouth was full of cauldron cake. He had stuffed his mouth right after he had realised the so-called spell was another joke of his brothers.

"Pleasure," Hermione said as she stood up, clearly disgusted. "You three better put on your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon."

At the door, she turned around to face Ron. "You've got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know? Just there." She tapped the bridge of her nose.

As Hermione scurried out, Mary hastily put on her robes from her satchel and followed her. Hermione disappeared into a compartment. Mary ran up and knocked on the door.

Someone slid the door open. It was a boy with grey eyes and a bright Irish smile.

"Hello, me name's Seamus Finnigan," he introduced. Sure enough, his accent matched his appearance. They were both Irish.

"Mary Potter," she smiled back.

Hermione waved at her. Mary waved back and squeezed in to sit next to her.

She engaged her in small talk, and the next thing they knew, they were friends. The two girls had a tremendous amount of similarities. They exchanged information they read and discussed what they might expect from Hogwarts. The main topic was what they had read in Hogwarts: A History since that was the only thing that hinted at what awaited them at Hogwarts.

They were talking non-stop and very engrossed that they didn't notice the train stop until the door of the compartment slid open and everyone slipped out. There was a scramble of arms and legs as people fell on top of each other to get out, but everyone seemed to laugh it off.

Once out of the train, Mary caught sight of Hagrid calling the first years to him. She led Hermione towards him with linked arms.

"Hello, Mary," Hagrid nodded.

"Hi, Hagrid," she greeted back.

Hermione looked at Mary in surprise. "Do you know this half-giant?" she whispered.

"Half-giant?" Mary repeated. "How can you tell?"

Hermione laughed. "Well, he's larger than the average human being, of course."

Mary filled Hermione with her life before she found out she was a witch in one long but grammatically correct sentence and then moved on to tell her of her Diagon Alley adventure as they neared a lake. There was a harbour with a great amount of boats on the shore.

The next thing they knew, Mary and Hermione found themselves in a boat with Neville. The boats seemed to paddle all by themselves. And so, the three sailed to Hogwarts together filled with nervousness and excitement. Little did they know the wonders and horror that they would face and that the magic involved would not always be pure.


	6. The Hobbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have condensed events that could take up to three chapters into one, but I am wondering if it is a good idea to keep it this way or if I should distribute these events over the course of three or so chapters.

All that she had read about Hogwarts did not prepare Mary for what she faced. It was the most beautiful castle she had ever seen, brightly lit and grand. It loomed over them like an ancient legend that held many promises. She was sure to love the place.

The first years trooped after Hagrid into the harbour in the basement level of the structure. On the marble stairs that led to the higher levels of the castle stood a tall woman in emerald green robes and a pointy hat. She wore a stern look on her face. Her aquiline nose enhanced the look of strictness in her as well as the sharp eyes behind her glasses.

"Gather around all of you," she commanded in a high and cold voice.

Only after everyone had crowded around her did the woman continue."I am Professor McGonagall.You will be sorted into houses in a moment. There are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Your house will be your family during your stay at Hogwarts. Kindly note that any rule breaking would lose you points for your house. However, your triumphs will surely earn you points. The rules are posted on the announcements board of each house common room. I expect good behaviour from all of you. Please wait here. The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly."

With that, she disappeared up the stairs. Everyone began talking all at once in excitement. Nervous as they all were about the Sorting, guesses were made as to how they would be sorted. However, one voice silenced them all. It was the cute blond boy's. He stood a few feet from Mary, Harry and Ron with two heavily -built friends.

"So, it's true then," he said loudly as he looked at Harry. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. "

This caused the chatter to resume though now they whispered Harry's name with curiosity.

"These are my mates Crabbe and Goyle. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," the boy introduced himself as he stood in front of Harry, his back to the stairs.

Ron snorted. Mary didn't blame him. The name did sound funny. She remembered that _draco_ was the Latin term for _dragon._

Draco turned to him with a malicious look. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe: you must be a Weasley. "

Ron shot him a look of disgust. Mary decided to stand up for him. It turned out Draco was not as good as he looked.

"Is there something wrong with being a Weasley? " she challenged, much to her own surprise. She was not supposed to draw attention to herself.

Draco seemed shocked to see her speaking up for Ron, but he recovered quickly. "Who are you?"

"Mary Potter, " she declared proudly. Another surprise. It was as though her mouth and vocal chords were working according to their own will.

"You see, Potter, some wizarding families are better than others. You don't wanna go make friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there," he smiled at Mary as he held his hand out. What a pleasant smile! Her heart melted at the sight, but Harry's voice brought her back to the present.

"We can tell the wrong sort ourselves. Thanks," Harry smiled politely, but his distaste for Draco Malfoy was crystal clear.

Mary's head whipped to him. There was slight frown creasing her eyebrows. However, as she thought it through, she decided that she wanted a good-natured boy as well as a good looking one, and Draco surely did not suit her requirements. Besides, as if she knew anything about boys. From the many novels that she had read, Mary had fallen in love with many fictional characters. But seeing the beautiful relationship between Mr and Mrs Tuley, she wished for something real. Yet, there was no denying she had felt something towards Draco...

Nevermind. All the heroines in the books were much older. She, on the other hand, hadn't even reached her teens. No, she will concentrate on her education and forget all about poetic romance. She had yet to bloom.

Draco glared at him with malice. His position made him unaware of Professor McGonagall standing right behind him at this point. She tapped him on the shoulder with a roll of parchment she was holding, suppressing a secret smile. In her other hand were a weather-beaten wooden stool and a pointy leather wizard's hat in worse condition.

Draco shrank back to his friends' side.

"Carry this along," Professor McGonagall said, handing the wooden stool to Draco. "Follow me, all of you."

Mary giggled as Draco grumbled under his breath about having to do elf work the second he stepped into Hogwarts. She slipped past her brother and friends to Draco's side.

"What did you mean about the elves?" she whispered to him curiously.

He gave her a like-you-do-not-know-look.

"Should I know that? I'm sorry. I was raised by Muggles."

Draco looked revolted as he shuffled away from her.

Mary frowned, wondering if she had said something wrong. She hadn't realised that she had walked to the very front of the pack of the first year until the great double doors were pushed opened to reveal an enormous hall crowded with students and teachers.

Everyone sat, waiting for them, at tables covered with empty platters and goblets. There were four tables - one for each house, Mary could see the banners set up at each table - and one for the teachers. Professor Dumbledore - dressed in bright purple robes, silver hair and beard, golden smile, and intelligent blue eyes - sat in the middle of the staff.

Mary trooped along with the other first years as they nervously followed Professor McGonagall all the way to the other side of the room. She panicked as eyes fixed on her as she walked up the narrow aisle to the teacher's table. A couple of students of pointed at her and giggled. Tears threatened to spill, but Mary held them back. Under no circumstances was she to cry on her first day at her new home.

Unintentionally, she clutched Professor McGonagall's dangling arm tightly as though it would protect her from those eyes. Professor McGonagall was about to shrug her off when she noticed the fear in Mary's face as her eyes darted from one place to another.

Mary could barely breathe, causing her a pink face.

"Look at the way she's holding Professor McGonagall's arm!" someone whispered loudly.

"Such a scaredy cat!" sneered another. "It's a surprise Professor McGonagall didn't tell her to let go."

Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. Mary tried to mute out the comments made on her, but it just seemed to amplify them. Her surroundings blurred. Her head spun. She was losing grip on Professor McGonagall's arm...

"Hold there, child! What's wrong?" exclaimed Professor McGonagall.

But Mary was in no state to answer. She was about to faint when the excited chatter died down. Mary blinked to clear her vision.

ProfessorDumbledore had stood up.

Mary slumped to the ground with a hollow thud...

* * *

 

People goggled at her as Mary sat up. There were a lot of people hovering over her, asking her if she was alright. She failed to recognise any of them until she found the green eyes identical to her own.

"Harry," she whispered, trying to clear her head. But the searing pain in her head and wrist prevented her from collecting her surroundings.

"I'm here," he whispered back, holding her right hand. "Are you OK?"

The pain evaporated.

"Yeah, I'm fine," murmured Mary, clutching her head with her other hand. "Just feeling a bit weak."

"Can you get up?" a nurse lady asked.

Mary nodded in response. She pulled herself up to her feet, but the sight that met her caused her to want to faint again. To say every single person in the room was staring at her would be an understatement. They were following her every move as if she were a TV programme.

Mary paled. She gripped Harry's arm to maintain balance.

Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore came to her rescue. He called for everyone's attention. "Proceed with the Sorting Ceremony, Professor McGonagall," he instructed.

Professor McGonagall nodded understandingly. She began calling out the names of students and asked them to sit on the wooden stool which now sat between the students' and teachers' tables. They were told to put on the gnarled hat, the Sorting Hat.

Eyes lost interest in Mary as they rolled in their sockets to watch the ones being sorted. The Sorting Hat shocked Mary by shouting out the House name's of the person who wore it. It had an ancient but powerful voice that rang loud and clear in the room.

"Granger, Hermione."

Mary watched as Hermione nervously walked to the stool, muttering things to boost her confidence. She held her breath as Hermione's eyes disappeared inside the Sorting Hat.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the Hat after a while.

Hermione hopped down the stool and headed towards the Gryffindor table, grinning at Mary along the way. Mary wondered if she would be sorted into the same house as Hermione. It didn't matter, did it? They'd still be friends.

The Gryffindor crest was a lion, and Mary's father always called her his little lioness. She would like it if she got sorted into Gryffindor. Perhaps her father would be proud of her if she was. She smiled lightly. Perhaps her father had been a Gryffindor. She would ask Professor Dumbledore the first chance she got, she decided.

"Potter, Harry."

There was a long silence after that as Harry sat with the Hat on for what seemed like ages. Everyone anticipated his sorting. Each house kept their fingers crossed that they would get to have the precious gem in their house.

Finally: "GRYFFINDOR!"

Mary sighed in relief. Come to think of it, she didn't even know why she did that. Perhaps, she didn't want him to end up in Slytherin after what Ron said. Draco Malfoy had been sorted into Slytherin, and if that didn't prove Ron's theory, then Mary didn't know what did.

But now came her turn. She knew she was next on the list, and so she edged towards the Sorting Hat without being called.

"Potter, Mary."

Professor McGonagall didn't have to announce her name. Mary blushed in embarrassment as people finally knew the name of the girl who had fainted.

She picked up the Sorting Hat and slid it over her head. It dropped right in to cover her eyes. Mary had never worn something so old. That fact added to the magic of the Sorting Hat, enough to form fluttering butterflies in Mary's tummy.

Her heart hammered violently as she waited for the Sorting Hat to decide on an answer.

No sooner had the Hat touched Mary's head, did it shout, "HUFF-"

_NO! YOU CAN'T SORT ME INTO HUFFLEPUFF!_

The Sorting Hat replied, _No? But every fibre of your existence speaks Hufflepuff. So, why should I not sort you into Hufflepuff?_

_My father would have been proud of me if I were in Gryffindor,_ Mary responded. She was fascinated that the Hat could maintain a telepathic communication with her.

_But it's not about your father. It is about you, and you will be a valuable Hufflepuff._

_Well, if it is about me, then I wouldn't be happy a Hufflepuff._

_You do not have to. I can see through your head. I know you will accept whichever house you are in. You are brave enough to do that. Brave, did I say? Hmmm..._

_"_ GRYFFINDOR!" yelled the Sorting Hat, giving no answer to the hundreds of shocked faces. The Hat had never halted mid-sentence when sorting someone. Moreover, it had never _changed_ the house mid-sentence when sorting someone.

Mary heaved a huge sigh as relief washed over her. Taking off the Sorting Hat, she slipped down the chair and placed it on the stool. She walked to the Gryffindor house table as everyone's gaze followed her.

Professor McGonagall called the next name. Most of the students returned their attention back to the Sorting Ceremony, but a few still watched her rudely.

But at that moment, Mary didn't care. She was sorted into Gryffindor. She was officially a little lioness. She beamed. Her father would have been so proud.

* * *

 

Even though people stared at her as she walked with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, most of the attention was directed towards Harry. Mary had let her hair hang loose on her shoulders. She used her bangs to conceal her face by looking down at all times. During classes, she quietly took down notes and paid full attention to the teacher and instructions that were given out.

Everything was running smoothly until she stepped foot in the dungeons for Potions.

She was seated between Hermione and an Irish girl called Laura Queens. The Potions Master entered the class. His very presence silenced the chatter that had been taking place in his classroom prior to his arrival.

**"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."** _**(J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone).** _

**"Ah, Potter. Our new - celebrity."**

Mary felt self-aware on hearing 'Potter'. Realising it was Harry who was being referred to, she rolled her eyes for being so paranoid. She was no celebrity, just a forgotten piece of wizarding history. A forgotten piece that no one cared to remember except for Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione and Harry. They were her only friends in this mysterious world.

Professor Snape's cold voice brought Mary back to Earth. "Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I have powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up. Mary was tempted to raise hers as well but kept it down for the sake of not drawing attention to herself.

On the other hand, Harry had no idea what the answer was. "I don't know, sir," he said politely, his head bent low in embarrassment.

"Where can I find a bezoar?" Professor Snape continued his surprise quiz.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolf's bane?"

"I don't know, sir, but you may ask Hermione. She seems to know the answer," Harry replied, glancing at Hermione whose hand was raised up towards the dungeon ceiling and shaking violently.

There was a round of giggles, which evaporated with a glare from Professor Snape.

"Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," Professor Snape hissed.

Unable to see the injustice happen before her eyes, Mary spoke up. "Well, you can't really blame him. This is our first class. You're supposed to teach us those things, rather than firing questions to which we wouldn't know the answer. Besides, Harry's was raised by his Muggle aunt and uncle, you can't expect his p-parent's to be present filling him with information that would help in class," Mary squeaked loudly.

"And you are....?" sneered Professor Snape.

Mary raised her head and sat up straighter. "Mary Potter." She pushed away her bangs to reveal her determined, green eyes.

_My brave little lioness,_ a voice called.

Mary spotted the wispy, silver form of her father standing in a corner. He was smiling at her proudly, glad to see she stood up for her brother. Mary's heart warmed at his sight. She surely felt braver in his presence.

"I am correct to assume you do not know the answers either. Perhaps - "

Mary turned her attention back to Professor Snape. "Actually, you are wrong to assume that. Powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood would give you the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar can be found in a goat's stomach, and there is no difference between monkshood and wolf's bane. They are both the same plant, which is also known by the name aconite."

"You are one rude girl, just as rude as your father," snapped Professor Snape.

Mary's confidence shattered to a million pieces. The wispy, silver form of her father disappeared. Once again, Mary was left to tears that threatened to spill and prove her weak.

"My father is not rude!" Mary protested feebly.

She bent her head and hid most of her face behind her bangs.

"How would you know?"

"At least, he wasn't a cold-hearted person like you," Harry said angrily.

"Mind your attitude, Potter!" warned Professor Snape. "And you, Miss Potter, I'll take ten points from Gryffindor for your rudeness. I will not allow some big-headed children interrupt my class."

"Fine, then!" Mary whispered, before grabbing her books and running out of the classroom.

She ran and ran - up and down flights of stairs, through long corridors. On the fourth floor, she ducked behind a statue of Hermes and cried her heart out.

"Snape's a dancing horse!" she muttered angrily. "Dancing his way to hell."

A hole opened up behind of the huge statue of the Greek god. It resembled a hobbit hole, just like in J.R.R. Tolkien's books.

_It all started in a hole in the ground._

Mary fell right through the hole into the darkness below.


	7. The Den

Mary's mouth flew open of its own accord and out escaped a shrill, high-pitched scream. Her arms were raised above her as she fell down the warm, earthy hole. She dug her fingers into the soil walls of the tunnel as she strived to slow down - if not halt - the breakneck descent. But the coarse soil prevented her fingers from securing hold. Off she shot down the tunnel, her fingers sliding through the hard soil.

_Thud._

She landed on soft ground. Her hands flew to feel the area around her. It took a minute for Mary to remember to open her eyes which had shut themselves involuntarily during the fall.

The object she had fallen on was a mattress, which was a strategically placed beneath the hole. She was in a small cave-like room with colourful rugs scattered all over the floor. The ceiling was lower than average, but she couldn't touch it with her extended hand.

A little round table sat in the centre of the room, atop which rested a lamp that illuminated the room. The dim light cast long shadows on the hollow curved walls.

_Like a badger's den in the trunk of a tree. Am I in Narnia?_

Mary hopped down the mattress and drew closer to the lamp. It was decorated with intricate floral patterns of different colours which clashed into one another every few centimetres. The lamp itself was deep blue at the base but grew lighter in hue as it made its way upwards towards the bulb. She goggled at it in wonder and searched for a chord, but there wasn't any. The bulb irradiated light without electricity!

Wondering how such a device worked, Mary gingerly fingered the smooth surface. The answer was staring at her right in the face. Magic, of course! Everything about Hogwarts was magical and extraordinary, but the room was the most magical of all.

Voices emanated from the elongated tunnel. Mary's head whipped towards the noise. Someone was coming! She needed a place to hide!

Scanning the room, Mary realised there was no place to take cover. The room was mostly bare save for the single piece of furniture at the centre. Despairing, Mary's eyes moved back to the hole, and that's when she noticed.

There was a curtain lying on the dirt floor behind the mattress. Without thinking twice about it, she leapt at the curtain and dove underneath it. As she covered her head, she saw a girl falling put of the hole and hit the mattress while rolling over with laughter.

"Clear!" she called to the hole, sliding down the mattress.

_Thud._

Mary held her breath, not wanting to get caught.

"Clear!"

_Thud._

Her heart pounded against her chest. They would find her any second.

"Clear!"

Thud.

"Clémence, shove off!" groaned a girl. "That's my toe, you fool!"

Clémence snorted. "Your fault for giving a false 'clear' alarm, Kennedy."

"Girls...Ssssshhhhhh!" hushed a third voice.

Silence.

Mary mentally cursed herself. She peeked in through a moth-eaten hole in the curtain. The girls had disappeared. It was safe to come out now.

The piece of cloth was pulled off her, exposing her to her finders. They were four tall girls dressed in full-sleeved black tees and pants and grey sneakers. The only colourful item they wore was a green apple pendant, entwined with silver twin serpents.

"Who are you?" demanded the girl who had hushed her friends.

"M-mary..."

Mary had been lying flat on the ground. The girl extended a hand to help her up. She had silver blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. She flashed Mary a smile that radiated good-nature and friendliness.

"Looks like you found our den, " she said brightly "I'm London Malfoy and these are my denmates: Kennedy McPeters - "

A curly-haired, dark-skinned girl with a bandana tied on her head and round glasses on her nose grinned at her.

" - Donna Gold- "

A dark-haired girl with pouty lips smirked.

" - and Clémence Nightingale."

A girl with chin-length lilac hair and thick black eyeliner waved. "Ignore the Nightingale bit. Apparently I am a descendant of someone called Florence Nightingale."

Mary's eyes widened with recognition. "Florence Nightingale?" she squeaked. "The nurse from the Crimean War?"

Clémence nodded in amazement. "Yeah, how did you...Muggle-born?" she guessed.

"No, my parents were a witch and a wizard," whispered Mary.

Donna twirled her dark hair around her finger. "Were they Pure-Bloods?" Her stormy grey eyes studied Mary carefully.

Mary didn't know how to answer. It was the first time she had heard the term. She hesitated long enough to make Donna raise her eyebrows.

"Well, aren't you quite mousy?"

Mary stared at her feet.

London laughed. "It's OK. That's nothing to be ashamed of," she assured. "Tell me, which house are you from?"

"G-Gryffindor," Mary tried to say loudly.

Kennedy whistled. "Whoa, boy! New member's a Gryff! We're all Slytherins by the way. Welcome to our den!"

London chuckled. "Chillax, Kennedy. You're confusing her." Turning to Mary, she clarified, "This is our den, which we had found in our first year. That was two years ago. Supposedly, this room was Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw's secret hideout."

She pointed at an engraving on the far wall.Mary hadn't noticed it before. _Helga_ _and Rowena's Secret All-Girls Den. Legacy to all female discoverers._

"So now this is our den - or secret hideout if you like. According to the rules, whoever discovers the den becomes part of it. It's Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's legacy to girls who find it."

Mary stared at the words carved into the hollow wooden wall. "So do I have to wear black clothes like you?" she asked timidly.

"Yep, but don't worry about that now. So, tell us, how did you figure out the magic words?"

Mary looked at her blankly.

"Snape's a dancing horse," giggled Clémence. "What did Snape do this time?"

Mary decided she could trust these nice people, so she opened up to them about her life. She explained what life was like for her before coming to Hogwarts, her introduction to the wizarding world and finally her first two days at Hogwarts.

All five of them were sitting on the rugs around the table, chatting and drinking Butterbeer. Mary had tasted the golden-coloured drink and had loved it instantly. She had drained her glass in a couple of minutes.

Kennedy had grinned and offered her a second glass. Mary had obliged and so she was sipping on her third glass now. The sweet scent and warm aroma calmed her nerves enough to force her to smile, and her new friends forced her to laugh.

"The password used to be 'Helping a rowing'. Don't even ask how we found that out. Donna had been drunk and no joke," Clémence was saying. "Anyway, we changed it to 'Snape's a dancing horse' for three reasons. One, we wanted the password to be unpredictable and strong. Two, Donna was drunk again. Three, we wanted to take revenge on Snape."

"Drunk? Aren't you all underage?" Mary inquired.

Donna shrugged. "Drunk with Butterbeer and chocolate," she quipped.

"Sugar rush," supplied London, rolling her eyes. She was writing a Potions essay but ended up doodling at the corner of the page.

Mary noticed the drawings. "They're so pretty," she nodded at the dresses and robes London had drawn.

London covered the sketches, shaking her head. "They suck a lot. They're not good enough to make it to the market."

"Are you joking? They're the most beautiful designs I have ever seen," Mary said lightly. "You should become a fashion designer or something."

"She wants to, but she's too nervous," Kennedy sighed. "We've tried to persuade her countless times that she can do it, but London just won't budge."

Ignoring Kennedy's remark, London packed her things in her black camouflage college bag. "I'm going to the common room to ditch my bag. See you at dinner in the Great Hall. Hey, Mary, do you want me to drop you to your common room?"

Mary nodded eagerly. She didn't think she could pass through the crowds all by herself. Besides, she didn't even know the way to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Meet us here anytime you want," offered Clémence. "We almost always hang out here."

Mary smiled. "I will," she promised before running off to follow London, who tapped a section of the Engraved Wall.

The Engraved Wall slid open to reveal a set of stairs. Torches came into life on their brackets as they neared them and died away as they drew away from them. Mary examined her bandaged fingers. They had been badly injured during her fall. Fortunately, the Slytherin girls were always prepared for anything. They had nursed her wounds and bandaged them carefully.

As they ascended the stairs, Mary finally figured out that they were in the dungeons and the stairs lead to the ground floor. It was the only explanation she could think of since the windows along the right wall of the staircase displayed nothing but dark, murky water.

                                                       

* * *

 

Harry and Ron stared at her as she entered the Great Hall directed by London. Mary clung to London's hand like a young child who was afraid of getting lost. London gave her a motherly smile.

"We'll have to go separate ways to our tables now," London said kindly. "But remember that you can't tell anyone about the Den, not even your brother. It's a secret of our sisterhood, our legacy. Remember that, OK?"

"Yes," Mary said. "Thanks, by the way."

London's smile grew wider. "My pleasure. Bye for now!"

With that, London let go of Mary's hand and headed towards the Slytherin table. Sighing, Mary scampered towards her own house table. People were watching her now more than ever. The reasons were obvious of course.

_1\. She was funny-looking_   
_2\. She had fainted right before the Sorting Ceremony_   
_3\. She had talked back at Professor Snape and ran from his class_   
_4\. She walked into the Great Hall with a Slytherin_   
_5\. The Slytherin was part of the most popular group at school_   
_6\. The Slytherin was a Malfoy_

Nevertheless, Mary chewed her meal slowly and tried to act as natural as possible. There was one way people would never recognise her: as the daughter of the Potters. Because she had disappeared off the face of history ever since Harry had taken the Killing Curse for her. People didn't even know that Harry had almost sacrificed his life to protect hers. To them, she was just the girl called Mary. She would never be known as Mary Potter.

Mary ignored the glances from Ron and Harry throughout dinner. She concentrated fully on eating.

After dinner, Professor McGonagall approached came to her. "Come with me, Miss Potter. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you."


End file.
